by JA Huss
An email alert pops up on the screen as I’m reading.
From: Eloise Hatcher.
Subject: Two Weeks’ Notice.
Dear Mr. Stonewall,
I would like to thank you and your company for seven great years of employment. It has been a joy to learn from, and work for, one of the world leaders in the communications industry. However, it is now time for me to strike out on my own. Please consider today’s date the start of my formal resignation and two weeks’ notice.
Good luck in all your future—
Oh, hell, no. She can’t leave now. Two weeks? Where the hell will I find someone to replace her in two weeks? She’s not even part of a department. She has no real underlings. She has no interns, or shadows, or counterparts.
And I just gave her a fucking promotion this morning! Before I even started playing these silly phone games with her.
I stand up and pull my jacket on, striding out of my office. Almost everyone is gone as I get in the elevator and take it down to the garage level. Fuck the train. Everyone is on the train right now. I’ll catch a golf cart over to the hangar.
No one is there to help me find a key, and they are all locked up tight, so I push through a door and start jogging. The airport is not really ours. Not technically. We rent a hangar just off the south end of the municipal airport where all the private jets fly into for Tech Center business. So it’s quite a distance from the Atrium to the tarmac.
Fifteen minutes later I burst into the empty hangar and see that little office lit up by a single lightbulb in the far west corner.
Ellie Hatcher is in there packing up her things.
I shove the door open, out of breath, sweating like I just came from the gym, and pissed as hell. “What are you doing?”
“Excuse me?” Pearl Button says. She’s not wearing a pearl-button sweater. Still the same kimono silk shirt from this morning. In fact, I can, now that I look, see that she has no bra on. Her nipples are pushing against the thin fabric.
“I just got off the phone with Andrew Manco. He’s upset that you’re leaving. I thought we had worked this out?”
“When would we have done that? Before or after you had me on my knees in front of your cock?”
I put a hand up. “I didn’t have you do anything.”
“No? You didn’t stick your tongue down my throat, open my blouse, rip my bra off, and then stick your fingers inside my pussy? Was I dreaming it? Because I have to tell you, that’s quite a fantasy I had.”
Jesus Christ. The second I hear ‘pussy’ come from those sweet lips I get hard. I clear my throat. “I gave you a promotion this morning, Miss Hatcher.”
“To what? Stairwell dick-sucker?”
“Stop that!” I say.
“Stop what?”
“Talking dirty! I can’t fucking take it.”
“Whatever.” She sighs. “I’m leaving.” She packs up one small box of personal items and walks towards me. “Flip that light off when you’re done here, will you?”
I take the box from her hands and set it down on a bookshelf next to me. “Eloise—”
“Ellie,” she corrects.
“Look, I’m sorry I humiliated you this morning. I was just having fun, OK? I didn’t think you’d take it this hard, and I’m sorry.”
“It’s not about you,” Ellie says, waving an envelope in my face.
I snatch it out of her and read the front. “Mr. Alexander Stonewall, corporate office? What the hell is this?”
“My formal resignation to your father. I figure I owe him something in writing after seven years.” She snatches the letter back and crosses her arms across her chest.
“You’re not sending that letter. You’re not quitting,” I say, more determined than the last time I said it.
“It’s done, Stonewall. Get over it.” I try to snatch the letter back, but she darts aside. “Who do you think you are?”
“Your boss,” I snarl. “That’s who. And I’m telling you, you’re not allowed to just quit and leave us hanging like this. Two weeks isn’t enough time to get a grip on what you do here. I need all your contacts, all your schedules, all your—”
“How dare you accuse me of trying to steal corporate property!”
“Give me the letter.” I reach for it again, but she skirts out of my reach, this time running around to the other side of her industrial-sized metal desk. “You want to play chase, Miss Hatcher?”
“No,” she sneers. “I really don’t. I want to walk out of here, send my letter, and say goodbye to you forever.”
“Well,” I say, inching around one side of the desk. She does the same, her eyes darting to the door, like she’s going to make a run for it. “That’s not going to happen. You’re going to accept my apology, calm down, and talk this over with me like an adult.”
“You’re the adult? Really?” She eyes the door again and then makes her move. I cut her off. She switches direction. I trip over a metal trashcan, making the whole office erupt with commotion, and make a grab for her arm as she whips past me. My fingers only catch the silk sash of her blouse and it comes flying open. She keeps running, but her shirt… her shirt is still in my hands.
And then Ellie Hatcher is mortified. Because she is baring her breasts to me in all their splendor. “How dare you,” she snarls.
I expect her to cover herself, but she doesn’t. She stands perfectly straight, her nipples hard and peaked, her face flushed crimson with rage, or embarrassment, or hell, maybe she’s turned on?
That thought alone is enough to turn me on.
I hold the shirt up. “Trade you,” I say, a chuckle escaping before I can stop it.
“Is everything a game to you, Mr. Stonewall? Do you think this is funny?”
“No,” I say, wiggling her shirt in the air. “Not at all. I just want to put your clothes back on you, Miss Hatcher.”
She tilts her chin up and then walks over to me and snatches her blouse from my hand. Her eyes never leave mine.
I wish I could say the same. My eyes are already out of control. My hands are next. I have her firm breasts in my palms before I can think twice. She moans, leans into me. The blouse falls to the floor with a flutter.
And then I’m bending her over the desk, my hands on her shoulders, her eyes wide with surprise. I push as she resists. “What are you doing?” she pants, her hands coming up to try to slap mine away.
“What I’ve wanted to do since this morning,” I say back. “Since you’re no longer an employee, it’s not as inappropriate as it was.”
“So now you want me to quit?”
I cock my head to the side as she relents. Gives up her fight and lies back on the metal desk, her back buckling a little. Probably from the cold. I kick her legs open with my foot and ease between them, leaning over her body, grabbing her by both wrists as I hike them above her head and press my cock into her lower stomach.
“Tell me to stop.”
“Stop,” she moans.
“Mean it,” I say back. “Or don’t say it, Ellie. It’s not a fucking game.”
She opens her eyes. “Maybe I want you to force me?”
“Do you or don’t you?” I ask. My cock is filling with blood, throbbing so bad. I need to fuck this girl right now. Get this weird obsession I have out of my system.
I bind her small wrists with one hand when she doesn’t answer, then cup her breast with the other.
She bites her lip and says, “Fuck.”
“You like that?”
“Me.”
I laugh as I kiss her. Hard and punishing.
“Fuck me, Stonewall. That way I will have a good excuse not to come to work tomorrow. Or ever again for that matter.”
“What?” I say, the spell broken.
“You heard me,” she says sweetly. “Here’s your chance to keep me around or take what you want. Fuck me. Right now. Hard and fast and any way you want. But if you do, I’ll walk out and never come back.”
I stand up straight and bac
k off. “How can you look so sweet and be so ruthless at the same time? I mean, hell, I’d expect it from Ellen Abraham—”
“Ellen Abraham? That red-head tramp who interrupted us this morning? What did you do, fuck her in the stairs after I walked away?” She sits up, places both hands on my chest, and gives me a shove. “Get out of my way. You’re disgusting.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I fucked her. Because that was my evil plan all along. I reappear after ten years just so I can come to work and fuck two girls in one day.” I take my opportunity to snatch the letter and tuck it into my inside breast pocket. “You’re not quitting. Do you understand? You better be on the seventh floor tomorrow at seven-thirty or else.”
“Or else what?” Ellie asks, picking up her shirt and slipping her arms inside. Her breasts move and jiggle with the motion and I cannot—cannot, for the life of me—look away.
“Or else,” I say, once she has that sash tied tight and her breasts are covered again. “Or else… I’ll send Heath all those texts. And,” I add, “I’ll tell everyone about your little workplace gossip board on Pinterest. I got that message, you know. You were using your company phone when you posted all that stuff. I have access to all of that information. And I will use it.”
“You would not dare,” she seethes.
“Try me, Miss Hatcher. Just try me.”
Chapter Nine - Mac
Why the fuck did I just threaten her? What a dick move. She’s probably going to sue me. She’s probably thinking up ten ways to cut my dick off. And I’m not fooled by that sweet pretense she’s putting on, either. I have a feeling Ellie Hatcher is ruthless.
I walk straight to the parking lot where my BMW is waiting. I purchased the car online last week and had it delivered today while I was in meetings. I press my fingertips on the handle and the car beeps, then unlocks. I climb in and push the button to start it up, revving the engine enough to make a few people leaving late look over at me.
Now home.
Home.
I say it over and over in my head. Home.
Don’t start, Mac. Just don’t start.
I put the car in gear and squeal out of the parking lot, make a left on the first street, and follow that road around to the Occulus Building where I now own the penthouse.
Home.
Hardly. I wouldn’t call that top-floor monstrosity a home. A place to live. Temporarily, anyway. But not a home.
Home has people in it, and this place has none. Not even full-time staff. The family was livid when I let them go, but there are plenty of other places for them to work. I need to be alone. If I’m being forced to stay here while Stonewall Entertainment is sold, well, I want to be alone while that happens.
I pull into the underground garage a few minutes later and flash my phone at the security gate sensors. I have to get a sticker for the car, then I won’t even need to stop. The gate will open, I’ll slide into the private parking section, and board my private elevator to the penthouse.
All without bumping into anyone.
When I get upstairs I empty out my pockets and find Ellie’s resignation letter.
Why the fuck did I overreact like that? And not just the threat at the end. Why the hell am I throwing myself at this girl? She’s… well, yeah, she’s cute. And that combined with the almost sex—twice—at the office, well, she’s gotten into my head.
Get out, get out. I don’t want her there.
Tomorrow when I go into the office and she’s in the one right next door, I’m going to be the epitome of professional. No peeks down her blouse, no hands on her tits, no bending her over the desk.
I’m hard again. Just what the fuck?
I start to open the letter; I even get so far as a small tear in the back cover of the flap. But I stop.
I think I invaded Ellie Hatcher’s private thoughts enough today.
So I walk into the office, open the desk drawer, and toss it in there. It’s not like she can’t just print out another one, right? I’m sure she’s already done that. I’m sure my threats were a challenge to her to beat me at my own game. I’m sure she’s probably emailing that letter right now. Along with a long list of complaints about my bad behavior.
As usual. I’m the disappointment.
Ten years away and I can feel all the same old misconceptions about me resurfacing.
What gives her the right to judge me?
I walk over to the bar and pour myself a drink from the crystal decanter and take a sip. I might need the whole bottle to get through this night.
No, that inner voice says. No. You will not fall back onto old habits just because you are part of the real world again.
My cell rings in the other room, so I take my one drink and walk out to answer it.
I smile at the name on the screen. Mr. Romantic. “Hey, asshole. What’s up?”
“Mr. Perfect, how the fuck did it go?” Nolan Delaney’s voice is welcome. We’ve been friends since we started boarding school together back in the seventh grade. We’ve been through hell and back since those days.
“Well, shit,” I say. “About as fucked up as I imagined, but not in any of the ways I thought.”
“Bad, huh?” Nolan asks. I can hear the sympathy in his voice.
“It could’ve been worse, I guess. How are things with you? Business good?”
“Killing this shit, Perfect. I’m killing this shit.”
“You always do.” I sigh.
I can almost hear his smile on the other end. And then the corresponding frown. “It’ll get better, man. Just hang in there, you know?” Nolan’s life has been charmed since the day he was born. What does he know about failure? What does he know about anything that doesn’t begin and end with success?
That’s not fair and I know it. He was there. I am the only black mark on his perfect record of an existence. Even in the worst of times he was never the target. That was always me. I just brought my friends along for the ride.
We make a little more small talk, him wishing me luck and providing me with the appropriate level of support. I thank him and hang up.
Alone again.
I’ve been this way for ten years, so what’s one more night?
That’s my mantra. I’ve lived with it for ten years. I can live with it for one more night.
The problem is Ellie. I can’t seem to stop seeing her face. Her breasts. Her flat stomach as I pushed her back on that desk. I was so fucking close. Twice today. So fucking close.
I need to be different tomorrow. Need to put a stop to this before it all goes to shit again. Need to be careful about who I trust. Who I let in. Who I get close to.
Ellie Hatcher will never be that girl. She’s got me in a place I don’t want to be. And one more wrong move might ruin my life.
Again.
At four AM I give up trying to sleep and go for a run. There’s a quarter-mile track along the perimeter of the roof, but the hills of the surrounding area call to me. I haven’t been running since I got back to the States and it feels good.
It rained all night long and the air is crisp. I love dawn. I love the smell of a fresh start, a new day. I love beginnings.
After three miles I turn back and slow my pace to ease my heart back down. The doorman smiles and hands me a newspaper as I head towards the elevator, and when I get upstairs I have just enough time to jump into the steam shower and get dressed before I need to leave for work.
I like to get there early. Especially today.
I walk into my seventh-floor office at exactly six forty-five and stand at the window, wishing I had a view of the airport instead of the cows for once. Or the parking lot, so I could watch her coming to work.
Ellie kept me up all night. Not just my threat, although that was weighing heavy on my mind. Things about her. Things I don’t know about her. What kind of car does she drive? Where does she live? What does her apartment look like? Why does she work here?
I only know the answer to the last question. Although I could look the
other three up and find them somewhere in her personnel file. She has to have an address listed. I could find that in five seconds. And she has to have a parking pass for the lot. That would list her car on the application.
I don’t want to stalk her though.
Why the fuck am I still thinking about her?
She’s not even going to show today. And on the off chance that she does show, she won’t show up here on the seventh floor. I’ll have to send someone down to the hangar to get her, I’m sure.
The elevator opens and I turn and try to see out my open door.
Not Ellie.
Several more people come. Not Ellie.
Stephanie comes, bringing me coffee, even assuming that I take it black, which is right. And then more and more people.
She’s not coming.
So many more people bustle through out of the elevators and up the stairs just as the clock hits eight-thirty.
She’s not coming.
Then things go quiet.
She’s not coming.
“Excuse me?” I hear the small sweet voice I’ve been waiting for. “I was told to report up here today,” she tells Stephanie. “Apparently, I work on this floor now.”
She came.
I walk to my office door and my exhale becomes an unexpected sigh of relief. Standing before me, Miss Hatcher looks like she’s ready for an evening out. She’s wearing a little black dress, not hugging her curves, but draping down her body in some kind of very flirty, feminine fabric. A good stiff wind might lift it right off her body.
I think I get hard just from the thought.
Chapter Ten - Ellie
“You came.” McAllister Stonewall is leaning against the door of his office looking spectacularly triumphant. His dark gray suit drapes his body like an Italian tailor was paying attention to each and every stitch of thread. His shirt is a classic gray pinstripe and his silk tie is a deep cerulean blue that matches his eyes.
He looks very smug. Like he won something. Like my mere presence in his top-floor world is a prize. But he also looks tired. Like he lost sleep last night.
